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Summary

He’s used to Cari and Lucy being close: roughhousing, chasing each other, curling up together when he and Ryan meet for movie nights, but he’s never – he’s never touched her. He’s never gotten close.

It’s just not something you do. With anyone. Not unless you have permission, anyway, and even then, it’s a big fucking deal, a private thing.

He can’t even imagine someone else laying their hands on Lucy, seeing her coiling around their fingers, her scales slipping over their skin. Or at least he couldn’t, not until he woke up to see Ryan’s daemon cuddled up to his fucking chest.

Summary

“How old are you, comrade?” the man asks, instead of answering him.“Nineteen, sir,” Dmitry answers dutifully. The man has a gun at his hip and a temper. Better not provoke him if he doesn’t want to end up with a bullet between the eyes.“I take it you didn’t fight during the Great War.”“I was locked at Tsarskoye Selo with all the other servants before I was of age,” he replies with what can only described as a mocking smirk. Then, after a pause, “sir.”

(Dmitry is the kitchen boy in exil with the Romanovs. That's only the beginning of his story, if the end of theirs.)